


Trying to Save Me (Stop Holding Your Breath)

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: A Forge for the Steeling of Souls [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Lydia Martin, Background Relationships, F/M, Gen, Pre-Slash, mostly Stiles POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: In which Stiles gets used to pack-life, a member of the Hale family is found, and a pillar gets torn down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey look, that sequel I said I'd do ages ago. You can thank how awfully bad-boring the new season of TW is. I basically spite-wrote this (I'm also spite writing parts 3 and 4....)
> 
> Title comes from "The Monster" by Eminem ft Rihanna, and series title comes from [my all time favorite Dresden Files quote](http://whenwolfsbaneblooms.tumblr.com/post/99006142507/her-dimples-deepened-why-are-you-so-upset).

If they manage to survive this Stiles was going to give this motel the most scathing internet review he could, but that was for later.

Right now he was doing something stupidly heroic in stepping into the puddle of gas with Scott; and if this went wrong he hoped Lydia cries at his funeral.

For a moment it _did_ feel like things were going wrong, sharp pain filled him making him double over. Moments later he saw Scott fling the flare in his hands as far away as possible and rushing to his side. “Stiles?”

It was _awesome_ to have Scott back.

They burst into activity, Scott rushing to his room to change clothes, Stiles and Allison breaking into a bus, Erica managed to lure out Boyd and Isaac like some sort of wolf-whisperer, and even Danny and not-so-evil Alpha twin joined them.

While it wasn’t comfortable, it was the best sleep Stiles’ had in years.

-

What felt like the next day not-so-evil Alpha twin came into school wearing a leather jacket and chatting with _Isaac_. Erica and Boyd were there too, but they seemed suitably wary. They appeared to relax a little when Danny and Lydia joined them and it was all Stiles could do not to march over there and demand to know what’s going on.

-

After that Stiles started to notice things. Easy even with how unmoored he’d felt since Motel de Horror. Like how Lydia started sporting a leather jacket of her own—and why the fuck would she join Derek’s pack when Scott was a million times cooler and nicer?

He felt no compunction in spilling all to Scott and Allison, though it started Scott on his ‘why doesn’t Isaac talk to me anymore’ spiel. Which Allison seemed to commiserate with...and wow, Stiles didn’t want to contemplate the significance of that. Except to wonder why his friends had poor taste.

-

The week after that the Alphas up and vanish. Took everyone by surprise, except for some reason Lydia.

It was enough to make him want to corner her and demand answers, except she was never alone. She’d be chatting with Boyd and Ethan, or hanging out with Erica, or eating lunch with all of them, or bringing Isaac to school with her in the mornings, their hands full of coffee for the rest of the pack.

Frustrating was what it was.

-

Scott flops into the seat next to him on the outdoor picnic table, and gives a dramatic groan Stiles’ only ever associated with Allison and their relationship before.

“What?” He’s that good a best friend.

Scott turns his head and Stiles gets met with sad puppy eyes. “Derek’s going to foster Isaac.”

Stiles blinks. “Excuses me? What? I thought that required an actual legal residence, not a burned out house and a subway station.”

“I know! But Isaac said Derek bought a whole apartment complex,”—wow way to casually show off how rich you are—“and that they’ve already started to move in.”

“So how do you know all this?” It’s a good question considering as far as Stiles knew things were incommunicado with Isaac.

Scott groans again. “Isaac came and talked to me. Said that Derek wanted us to come to the next pack meeting they had, talk about things.”

That doesn’t sound ominous at _all_.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day after school Stiles and Lydia, which somehow becomes him, Lydia, and Erica, make a run to the store for snacks before this meeting that Derek called. One he's still not sure why he and Scott are attending. Except that Isaac gave Scott those puppy eyes of his. Stiles is going to make sure his best friend doesn't do something monumentally stupid.

The shopping goes well enough, if filled with too much junk food for Stiles' tastes. It's when they leave that things start to go strange. While they were in the store a Girl Scout troupe came and set up a stand for cookies, none of them can resist that.

He and Erica juggle shopping bags trying to figure out where they might fit cookies while following Lydia. Who gives a bright smile to the girls at the table. “Hi. I'd like five boxes of Thin Mints, five boxes of Samoas, three boxes of Tagalongs, two boxes of Trefoils, a box of Thanks-A-Lot, a box of Toffee-tastic, and a box of Trios.” Even the adult with the scouts gapes at the order..

Though the scout's surprise turns to enthusiasm. Stiles finds himself frowning. “Why are you buying Samoas? You don't like coconut.” He should know.

The expression she gives him is halfway between annoyed and angry. “Stiles.” Her voice is that saccharine-sweet tone that means trouble. “Before we get to how horribly wrong hearing that is. Think about this: do you think I'm buying all these cookies for myself?”

He flushes and ducks his head. Why does he keep forgetting Lydia's chummy with Derek and his pack? It's, so _weird_. Erica jabs him in the side as Lydia pays. “That was kind of an asshole thing to say. You should apologize.”

Baring his teeth Stiles' grimaces. He's kind of shit at apologies, and he just asked a question.

The ride back to Derek's loft—not over that—is tense, well between him and the girls. Erica and Lydia chatter on like nothing's changed.

As they're pulling into the parking lot of the loft Erica sticks her head out the window and shouts for Boyd to get his ass down and be useful. Lydia shakes her head in what Stiles thinks is fondness, while Stiles wonders how those two got together.

Boyd comes down, meaning they've only got the one trip instead of a second one. When they come into the loft the number of people in it has grown to include Peter—Stiles spares Lydia a quick glance but she doesn't _look_ scared—as well as Allison and her dad.

Peter's giving Chris the stink eye, Chris seems to be giving as good as he gets. Stiles hopes Peter does something. Then again what the frick-frack fuck is up with the bird on Peter's shoulder? Who seems engrossed in biting his ear.

Meanwhile Lydia, who managed to carry all the cookies, trots over to Derek and hands over three of the Samoas boxes; how weird is that? Isaac gets two boxes of Tagalongs, Boyd the Trefoils when he returns from putting the food away, and Erica the Trios. Then she takes another box of Samoas and tosses it at Peter's head. “Stop that,” she chides.

Peter, of _course_ , catches the box before it can hit him. His movement startles the bird though who gives an angry squawk as it launches into the air. Stiles hopes it pisses on Peter, but instead it does a loop of the loft, then come to land on Lydia's shoulder. He expects Peter to gives some angry retort or snarl at Lydia. Instead he pouts and breaks his staring contest with Chris.

Stiles is well and truly flabbergasted.

Derek sighs. “Sit down Peter.” Peter sits to the left of Derek on the couch and meticulously begins to open his box.

Lydia rolls her eyes and hands the last box of Tagalongs and a box of Thin Mints to Ethan and Danny who look about as adorable next to each other as Scott and Allison do. Speaking of, the box of Thanks-A-Lot goes to Scott and Allison cuddling on the overstuffed armchair. Then she gives Stiles the box of Toffee-tastics before taking a seat right next to Peter. Stiles nearly drops his box at that, and he's not the only one thank God. Scott and Allison look as confused. Before his legs give on on him Stiles brave the loveseat and sits next to Danny.

Either Derek doesn't notice or doesn't care. He bites into one of his own Samoas then speaks. “Now that we've had time to relax and recuperate we need to figure some things out.” His gaze turns to Scott. “Including what's going to happen with you?”

“Me?” Scott squawks in a good approximation of the bird. Out of the corner of his eye Stiles sees Lydia starting into her own box of Thin Mints, feeding the bird a bite every once in awhile. “Why me?”

“You're not part of the pack Scott.” Derek says patiently. “Even though you told me you were this spring.”

“That was to beat Gerard!” Stiles protests.

Derek gives him a flat look. “Doesn't matter. It's high time you decided if you're going to join the pack or go Omega Scott.”

Scott turns a little pale. “What? You mean right now?”

Derek shrugs. “By the end of the meeting.”

Needing something to do with his hands Stiles tears into his cookie box. “Fine, so you're being an asshole and putting the screws on Scott. Why're they here?” He gestures to the Argents.

For a second Stiles thinks Derek's going to leap over the beat up coffee table and threaten to bite him, but instead he exhales loudly and closes his eyes. “I'm not being an asshole Stiles. I'm making Scott chose where he stands. Argent is here because I wanted to talk to him about a treaty.” It doesn't escape Stiles' notice that he doesn't mention Allison, which means she probably invited herself.

“I'd suggest taking Derek up on that offer Scott,” Chris speaks. “We tend to keep a closer eye on Omegas than pack wolves.” He gives Peter the stink eye.

Peter, who despite having opened his box hasn't touched the cookies inside, throws up his hands. “I _died_ , that wipes my slate clean Argent. Don't go looking at me for your example.” The bird on Lydia's shoulder caws then hops onto the table to steal a cookie from Peter's box—Stiles kind of loves that bird—before flying off to a corner of the loft to enjoy its spoils.

Lydia smiles, while the Betas snigger. Peter heaves a put upon sigh _then_ takes one of his cookies.

“Moving on,” Derek grunts. “I’m not trying to bully you Scott. I’m not going to let you just change your mind every five minutes either.” Not true, Stiles wants to protest, he’d once seen Scott settle on a decision for half an hour. Alright, he so far hasn’t wavered over Allison being ‘The One’—but other than that yeah, Derek sort of has him pegged.

Scott looks like he wants to protest. Allison kicks his ankle and Scott falls silent, which is why Allison is one of Stiles’ favorites.

From there the meeting turns _super_ boring—and that’s saying something considering some of the things Stiles has done over the years. Derek, Peter, and Chris talking and talking about boundaries and hunting rights, and when it’s appropriate for Chris to intervene or vice versa. Stiles has no real vested interest, unless Scott does join Derek’s pack—which Stiles doesn’t see as the be all end all of ‘evil’ things—so he lets his gaze wander.

Danny and Ethan are still being adorable—and Stiles hadn’t realized how shocking it was to see _Danny_ here, how did he know? Isaac, Erica, and Boyd seem to be having their own sort of pow-wow, their backs against the wall under a huge window, legs all piled up on top of each other. It’s sort of heartwarming to see, and he _is_ glad they’re all alive.

Allison and Scott are talking in hushed tones. Stiles does sort of wish he had super hearing, because he’d love to know what they were talking about. If they were sticking with the actual serious topic that needed discussion, or if Scott had somehow diverted it to something else.

Derek has moved off of the couch, he and Chris hunched over a tall table and a map spread out over it, leaving Lydia and Peter alone. Neither of them have spread out, tried to get distance from each other. Peter’s eating from his box of cookies, and being disturbingly neat about it. As is Lydia. Neither are talking but Stiles can sense _something_ between them.

The bird returns from the rafters and lands on the couch next to Lydia, beak tapping Lydia’s arm. She huffs. “Sure you’re a bird Mori? Definitely acting like a pig at the moment.” Lydia sounds fond. Where the hell had Lydia gotten a bird? Especially—Stiles does a quick bit of Google-fu—one that isn’t native to the US?

“Be nice.” Stiles wants to call Peter’s tone chiding—maybe it was _his_ bird, that seems like something weird and creepy enough for Peter. “She’s deserved it don’t you think?”

“If she keeps eating like this she’ll get so fat she can’t fly.” Lydia responds, her fingers gliding down Mori’s back. “In which case half the point of having her is gone.” Yowch, Lydia isn’t holding back today.

“How cruel.” Yeah there’s something frightening about him and Peter agreeing on something. Granted there’s a note in Peter’s voice that feels more... _admiration_ than censure. Stiles would rather not touch that with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole thank you very much. Blech, damn creepy uncle Peter.

Lydia only laughs in response, picking up a cookie and biting it in half. “Oh please, don’t think I haven’t seen you taking notes.” What. The. Actual. Fuck? Stiles has fallen into bizarro-land, and he’d like to return to Earth now please where things made sense.

Peter flashes a grin, “guilty.” Standing he closes his box of cookies and meanders over to Derek and Argent.

Taking advantage Stiles all but leaps into the empty space on the couch. “What the hell?” He hisses, keeping his voice low.

Lydia gives him an unimpressed look. “You know, just because you’re kind of whispering doesn’t mean the werewolves can’t hear you.” She doesn’t even bother trying to whisper back, not understanding why he’s freaking out. On the other hand she’s right about the werewolves.

Which means he’ll just have to try and corner her somewhere later to question her. Because okay, maybe Derek and co. did try to kill Lydia, but they didn’t get much past looming. Lydia seems willing to forgive that if this newfound friendship’s anything to go by. But Peter? You would think she wouldn’t be so forgiving considering.

He’s still in bizarro-land.

“Good.” Argent’s pleased tone pulls Stiles out of his musings. “Anything else we need to cover?”

Derek and Peter share a weird look that’s conveying whole conversations to each other, before Derek shakes his head. “With the Alpha pack gone we should be able to focus on laying the right groundwork and establishing the powerbase.” Derek’s glance cut to Lydia, who’s taken out her phone and is typing something. Weird.

Argent nods. “Then Scott?” It’s kinda cool, in a creepy sort of way. How everyone’s eyes—except Lydia’s glued to her screen—turn to Scott almost in sync.

Scott stiffens at all the attention, but Allison touches his hand and he relaxes. Stiles feels kind of weird not being the only Scott-whisperer anymore. Scott’s glance shifts around before landing at Stiles, who can only shrug. If he had his way he and Scott would be marching it out alone, Stiles could be a badass werewolf-teacher; but it’s Scott’s choice.

“Fine.” Scott still mutters it, not happy with the idea.

Peter opens his mouth, probably to let loose some scathing comment. Derek elbows him, and that earns him some brownie points in Stiles’ mind. “Then you’ll need to come here so I can lay the claim.” Lay the claim, like he’s some creeper romance hero—not that Stiles reads paranormals, nope.

Allison leaves her spot on Scott’s lap and Scott gets up and walks over. Not fighting it when Derek picks up one of his arms and brings it up to his mouth. Eyes glowing hellish red as his fangs grow out and he bites into Scott’s forearm.

“Why does it always have to be biting?” Stiles doesn’t expect an answer, but he asks anyways. Kinda freaky the whole biting thing.

“Biting and scratching a lot more hygienic than him pissing on Scott,” Lydia replies, her eyes still glued to her screen; which Stiles wishes he could do. “Also better for everyone involved let’s be honest. I’m in no rush to see Derek’s dick.”

All of Derek’s Betas snigger. Peter turns and flares his eyes at them and they quiet. Stiles finds he’s not even going to try and parse that one.

Meanwhile Derek’s removed his teeth and gives a low rumble. As if in response Scott’s eyes flare golden, and Derek gives a satisfied nod. “Good, you can all head out now, I’ll text you about next week.” If Derek owning an apartment is weird, then him talking about _phones_ is like...more proof Stiles’ in bizarro-land.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac stand. Erica and Isaac going over to Danny and Ethan, striking up a conversation about video game night and Stiles is all for that. If Scott’s part of Derek’s pack now, then Stiles is gonna have to throw in with them too and deal. Playing video games and talking smack is totally his jam.

Boyd comes over to Lydia. “Do you still have that Greek mythology book? I was hoping I could borrow it.”

Why couldn’t everyone do research binges like Stiles did?

“I’m still looking through it but I think the Vault has an extra copy. Peter, come give us a ride to the school.”

Scott turns and makes a face at Lydia. “It’s the weekend and you want to go back?” His tone suggests it’s a betrayal of the highest order to teenagerdom. Stiles agrees.

Although Stiles would be more concerned about that if he weren’t so hung up with the whole ‘Peter’s not a pariah’ thing. Meanwhile Peter’s rolling his eyes. “You can drive yourself.” However he doesn’t sound as annoyed as his words would suggest.

“True.” Lydia flutters her eyelashes and Stiles prepares for the worst. “You’ve got the magic claws as it were. I’m sure Derek’s got better things to do with his time than mind us while we read. Also you’re the one who knows how everything’s organized.”

Stiles expects Peter to remain true to form and shoot off some scathing comment, something about Lydia’s comment of ‘magic claws’, before refusing. Instead he gives a soft huff. “Fine.”

That more than anything insists Stiles learn more. “There’s a vault? Why have I never heard of this before?” You’d think they’d all know him by now.

Lydia’s huff is almost like Peter’s. “I’m not sure you can invite yourself over Stiles.” Utter nonsense, how else does she think Stiles fills what little social calendar he and Scott have? “But fine.” Score. She tosses her keys at Peter—who doesn’t even have to look to catch them the bastard—and holds out her arm.

At first Stiles thinks she’s doing some sort of weird reverse gentleman thing, but she gives a low whistle and the hooded crow comes flying over to her, landing easily on her forearm. Lydia brings her arm closer and scratches under the bird’s chin as she begins walking. Peter gets the door, weird, and they all head down.

“Seriously, there’s a vault at the school?” The idea’s both cool and baffling.

“Talia started it right?” Boyd chimes in. Before it would have been weird to see him so talkative, but since he joined the pack he seems to have opened up, at least to them.

“The current version of it yes,” Peter responds. “It’s always existed in one form or another. She’s just the one who moved it off Hale property for safekeeping.” You’d think with all the shit that’s gone down at school she’d’ve picked a better place. Like the bowling alley or something.

It’s kind of funny to see Peter cram himself into the driver’s seat of Lydia’s car. The amount of leg room it leaves Stiles when Peter’s finished adjusting leaves something to be desired. The crow, she’d called it Mori right?, settles in Lydia’s lap after she buckles up in the front passenger’s seat.

Quiet reigns over the car as Peter begins to drive. Stiles can sense that there’s perhaps things the others would be saying if he weren’t here. Which, kinda rude.

They’re about halfway to the school when Lydia sways and Mori starts making croaking noises. Peter pulls over, an unexpected action, Boyd’s gone on high alert too. “Lydia?”

Without responding she unbuckles her seatbelt and all but falls out of the car in her rush to get out of it. Mori take to the air, swooping around Lydia a few times before moving to perch on a nearby trash can.

“Lydia?” Peter approaches her slowly, Stiles finds he’s close behind. Boyd bringing up the rear, watching for anyone. When they get to her front Stiles is disturbed to find her expression vacant, and that her eyes have turned an eerie pale green. “What do you sense Lydia?” Peter adds a strange cadence to the question, like he should be asking it in some other language besides English.

She doesn’t turn her head, or even move her eyes, but Stiles can somehow tell that all her focus is on Peter now. “Blood. Kin.” The strangest thing is how _normal_ her voice sounds, Stiles would have thought there’d at least be an echo of some sort, maybe some reverb. “She’s hungry.”

Also what the hell is she talking about?

“Can you find her?” Again with that strange cadence, even that can’t mask the excitement in Peter’s voice. Stiles wonders why, it’s not like this ‘kin’ Lydia’s talking about could be another Hale. So who’s kin is it then?

Mori squawks before launching herself up into the air. She circles once before heading off to the right, off towards where some businesses butt up against the Preserve. Lydia follows at a sleepwalker’s pace, forcing the rest of them to follow as slowly. “Boyd can you call Derek, let him know where we are and that we might need him.”

Stiles doesn’t bother to turn his head to see if Boyd nods, but soon enough he hears Boyd’s low voice on the phone. Not that Stiles pays much attention to what’s being said, his gaze following Mori as she lands on a dumpster. She hops around and makes a few croaking sounds before bounding off the other end of the dumpster.

Lydia’s moving slowly but Stiles, soon passed by Peter, go around her to see what’s hiding out there.

Peter’s already made the corner and Stiles is a step behind when he hears a very dog-like yelp. Peter gives some sort of werewolf rumble. Echoed by the...Stiles blinks when he takes the corner. Coyote? What. The. Fuck?

Peter’s crouching, blocking off most of the coyote’s escape route. He looks about as confused as Stiles feels, a cold comfort.

With her slow pace Lydia seems to take forever. During which the coyote does try to make a break for it, only to cower against the dumpster when Peter flashes his eyes and snarls. She reaches the rest of them, falling on her knees she reaches a hand out towards the coyote. “Greetings lost daughter.” She’s still in whatever weird trance she put herself into, so the words sound absent. “Do not be afraid. We won’t harm you.”

Says her. Stiles takes a few steps back. The coyote seems to have calmed down some, but he isn’t going to take his chances. Coyotes weren’t wolves, but they were still wild animals, even if this one’s more than it seems. It’s that or there’s something wrong with Lydia’s...whatever this is.

“Derek’s here,” Boyd says a few moments later, relief clear in his voice. Peter relaxes too, not enough to give the coyote an escape.

“What’s going on?” There’s only a tiny bit of Derek’s usual crankiness, it’s kind of impressive.

“Lydia says this is one of our lost family.” Peter responds, pointing at the coyote. Stiles can’t help but blink, because seriously, how are things like this possible?

Derek crouches next to Peter, eyes flaring red as he looks at the coyote. “A full transformation? I thought only true Alpha’s could do that.” He inhales. “She doesn’t smell fully wolf.”

“You can tell she’s a coyote right? I mean…” Sure this far north they tend to stick more to the Preserve than wander into the city, but you see them from time to time. You’d think as Californians they’d know that.

“We can.” Derek rumbles, and Stiles is far too familiar with Derek’s anger to be afraid. “As far as any of us know all our family was either werewolves or humans, werecoyote’s don’t come out this way often.”

Stiles should’ve guessed werecoyotes were a thing, what was next? Weregoats?

“Lost blood,” Lydia croons. “Wild but so full of human guilt.” Mori chirrups and bounces a little closer to Lydia. “Won’t you speak to us?” She sways and before Stiles can blink Boyd’s there holding her up. Peter looks like he wants to say something about it, but he keeps his gaze trained on the coyote. “You’ve nothing to fear from your humanity.”

Pushing away from Boyd Lydia extends her hand even further, her fingertips almost brushing the coyote’s nose. Peter rumbles, a note of warning in it—but for who Stiles doesn’t even know. Derek cuts him a quick glance and it dies away; now if only that would work for everything about Peter.

The coyote sniffs at Lydia’s fingers, a piteous whine leaving her throat. Lydia hums back and Stiles watches fascinated as the coyote darts out, teeth grazing Lydia’s hand, drawing blood.

“Derek.” Lydia’s tone doesn’t sound panicked, but there’s something resembling emotion in it. Not that Stiles can tell what sort of emotion it is.

Derek seems to, his eyes flare somehow brighter and when he opens his mouth it’s full of far too many teeth again. The roar that leaves him shakes Stiles to the bone and sends a flock of nearby pigeons flying away—Mori, and everyone else, seem unaffected.

Yet it seems to work, whatever it was. Right before Stiles’ eyes the coyote turns into a girl...he averts his eyes because she’s really, really naked.

Lydia makes a gasping sound, as if she’s taking her first breath in minutes, which seems to break the spell. “Boyd take Lydia home and make sure she eats something, her mom shouldn’t be home.” It should be creepy that Derek somehow knows that. “Peter we’re taking her back to the apartment and start trying to figure this out.”

“What about me?” Stiles hates to be ignored.

Derek looks at him, as if he’d forgotten Stiles is there, which, rude. “I don’t care.” Super rude. “Talk to your dad, see if there are any weird cases with missing girls.”

Leave it to Derek to ask the near impossible. Sure Stiles could tell his dad about the supernatural. It wouldn’t do his dad any favors, especially after the impeachment fiasco a few months ago. A traitorous part of Stiles points out that if his dad _had_ known, then it wouldn’t have happened. “Fine.” It’s something interesting to do. Anyways Stiles’ is sure he’d’ve done it on his own even without being asked to by Derek.

Not that Derek seems to hear said agreement, being an Alpha hasn’t shrunken his ego. More focused on getting his jacket on the girl to cover _some_ of her up before hauling her up and taking her out of the alleyway.

Blinking Stiles realizes he’s alone, except for Mori, who cocks her head and croaks at him before jumping up into the air and flying off. Biting back a sigh he resigns himself to a long walk to the station to go bug his dad.


	3. Chapter 3

If Derek didn’t know any better he’d think the universe is taking a giant shit on him—and had been for the past five or so years. His father had taken him aside when he was about thirteen or so and told him in no uncertain terms that the universe, and most deities if they existed, didn’t give a flying fuck what happened to him or what he did.

Not exactly the words a young teenager wants to hear. In the long run his dad’s chorus of cosmic insignificance has done him a modicum of good.

Doesn’t stop him from feeling he’s gotten the short end of the stick with this...half-feral relation. He trusts Lydia that they’re blood—he knows what her banshee powers can do—but that doesn’t mean he trusts the young woman. After all even Peter doesn’t recall her from before—on the other hand Peter’s been upfront with the fact that Talia had taken some of his memories, so it’s possible this young woman’s part of those.

She hasn’t said a word, but she remembers how to use a toilet thank God. Her ambivalence about clothes he can deal with considering his own sensibilities, but much else might be pushing it.

He’s got Peter to lean on thankfully, and the rest of the pack as well.

At the moment his uncle’s making lunch, while Lydia and the woman—his Betas have taken to calling her CC in the past week since they don’t know her real name—are seated at the counter. Lydia chatting to CC without seeming much to care that she’s not getting much in the way of response.

On the other hand he’s plenty certain that chattering isn’t all that Lydia’s doing. The strange glow of her inside him pulsing like blood.

Pack bonds he can deal with, he’s had them for longer than he’s been without—in one form or another. This family bond with Lydia? If it had just been him he would have said no outright.

Yet Peter managed to sway him, even disregarding his uncle’s strange fascination with her, and he’d agreed. The feel of the bond itself is unlike anything else he’s ever felt.

“Lunch is ready.” Peter’s almost soft voice pulls him from his thoughts. Derek takes a seat next to Lydia, grateful that CC understands that he eats first. Perhaps it’s her feral nature, although coyote’s weren’t much like wolves.

In a ridiculously blatant move, to wolves at least, Peter serves Lydia next, before CC and himself.

The Beta’s will be over soon, even Scott—even if he does drag his feet. Derek hopes he can get CC to participate in the training, it’ll do her good to get reaquainted with her senses and human form. He and Peter agree that given time and training she should be able to change between her human and coyote form at will. For the time being she’s stuck as a human.

He can feel each of them, the thin threads of spider silk that tie them all together. The feeling fills him with a sort of contentment. He never wanted to be Alpha, in a way still doesn’t, but there’s no changing the past. He’s just going to have to do his best and hope that when he asks for help he’ll get it.

-

Lydia sits in the old subway car while above and around her the pack trains. Her headphones mean their crashing and thudding isn’t as distracting as it could be. Means she can focus on this book. They hadn’t ever made it to the Vault, at this point she’d rather just finish it and hand it off to Boyd than try and discover what new Hale relation she was going to stumble across.

Not that she regrets finding CC, it’s one less Hale to worry about. Sort of.

When she’d felt those threads from the bond spinning outwards she’d been caught off guard. Doubly so with one so close to Beacon Hills. One to the south and a final to the east, and she knew if Derek didn’t have to restablish the Hale territory he and Peter would be searching high and low for them. As it is Lydia’s certain they’ll keep, both are alive and...hale. Not even a quiver of distress.

Do they feel that something’s changed? Both Derek and Peter can feel the bond she’s made with the Hales, do these others too?

A bang coming from inside the car jerks her from her thoughts. Pulling out an earbud she looks around. “Really?” She asks Isaac and CC, rolling around on the ground like puppies.

They both look up and Isaac cheeks pinken. “Sorry.”

CC doesn’t say anything, Lydia’s starting to consider the idea that she might never speak. Derek had put Stiles on the task of trying to find out who she is, but so far he seems to have come up blank. Lydia’s planning on heading to the library tomorrow to go through old editions of the _Beacon Hills Herald_ , there can’t be too many kids who have disappeared in the last twenty or so years. Next to her Mori croaks, and okay, maybe there are more kids missing than she expects.

Isaac stands and holds a hand out to CC. Who doesn’t take it, instead leaping up on her own and trotting over to Lydia, sitting in the space next to her. Isaac sighs and leaves the car, Derek calling out something about not ignoring fangs. Lydia puts her earbud back in and starts reading. The Orphics will require more research she thinks, if this book is right she should be able to co-opt some of their rituals for herself.

Her shoulder gets nudged and biting back a sigh she pulls out her earbud again. “Yes?” She asks CC. It’s perhaps a pointless question considering she won’t get an answer. CC understands English on the other hand so addressing her will show Lydia’s paying attention.

CC cocks her head, a questioning look in her eye. Sign language, Lydia is going to sit the whole pack down and start teaching them sign language. CC might be able to do more than gesture if she knows how to sign.

“Why aren’t I joining in?” Lydia guesses.

It earns her something between a nod and a frown. So she’s on the right track then. “I’m not a werewolf, if I tried training alongside everyone else I’d get torn to shreds.” Lydia accepts that. She’s not supposed to be a fighter, not in the traditional sense.

CC bares her teeth, Lydia rolls her eyes. “If you’re calling me out it’s not going to work. I’m quite a bit more breakable than you are.”

“We don’t hold it against you sweetheart.” Peter’s voice makes Lydia jump a little. Warmth thrumming through her. _Six months_ , Lydia repeats to herself. Before Scott and Stiles had officially joined the pack she’s sure no one else would have raised an eyebrow. Which doesn’t mean Lydia would have, but Stiles and Scott are a reminder that there are far more moral and law abiding folk out there than her. “I hope CC’s not bothering you too much.”

Lydia huffs at Peter’s pointed tone. “As much as usual,” she answers. Giving CC her own nudge Lydia give her a pointed look. “You should get back, training’s good.” If only to try and establish pack bonds. They need to get to the vault and find info on werecoyotes.

An echoing huff from CC, but the young woman does get up and trot off, snapping her teeth at Peter in playful challenge. Peter bears his own sharp teeth right back. “Don’t try it.” There’s hardly any heat in his voice. Then they’re alone. As he approaches Lydia half expects Stiles to burst out from wherever he’s lurking. Like he’s required by law to chaperone her or something.

She sure as hell hopes he doesn’t do it because he still has feelings for her, or out of some misguided attempt to be ‘chivalrous’. Lydia doesn’t need either thing. “Are you going to bother me too?” She teases.

“I think.” Peter takes the spot next to her, leaning in close to loom over her. “That all depends on your definition of ‘bother’.”

A shiver. She both does and doesn’t want him to kiss her here. He doesn’t do anything more than loom, content to let her chose. “Our definitions must differ,” she scoots closer. About as much as she dares at the moment. The warmth of him sinks into her, warding off what little chill she feels from the air. “Shouldn’t you be helping with training?” The Alphas might not have hung around for long, but they proved that Derek’s Betas aren’t in good fighting form.

On the other hand with no other threats nearby the Betas can learn at a better pace. Make it more like play that combat.

“Derek’s got it covered.” Peter answers easily, his arm coming to rest across her shoulders. “He’s letting me plot the next one. I’m thinking hide and seek in the Preserve. Test out ingenuity.” He gives her a look. “You and Stiles won’t be able to sit out that one. Always good to learn how to hide.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Just what I always wanted. To get my ass handed to me by werewolves.”

Peter dares a brief kiss to the top of her head. “If they can find you. All sorts of things one can use to mask your scent, can never be too prepared.”

Part of her feels that by telling her his plan she’s already more prepared than everyone else. Yet his words combined with her own to CC earlier have a point. She’s not a fighter, so she needs to learn how to not be found, how to trick werewolf senses. A sort of protection all on its own. “I’ll look into it later.”

“Peter!” Erica sounds far too cheery. “We need one more person for capture the flag.”

The look Peter gives her makes Lydia laugh. “Go on. You’re the one who signed up for this shit.” She thinks it’s nice, bonding with the pack even if he is the Left Hand. Better than him bent on revenge or scrambling to keep the pack safe from the Alphas.

Another kiss to her head. “You’d better research sweetheart. I might just make it my goal to hunt you down.” He nuzzles her temple. Lydia gives a delightful shiver at the thought.

He leaves and it’s just her and Mori again. “What?” She snaps at her bird. Mori caws and flaps her wings.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles will admit to himself that he’s _kind of_ stalking Lydia. In his defense this time it happened by accident. He’d only stopped by the library because they were doing their annual book sale, and who knew what sort of treasures he might find among those boxes.

There had been a double take involved when passing the newspaper room. His second glance confirmed that yep, Lydia is in there. Scrolling through microfiche so fast she couldn’t possibly be reading it.

While there’s the lure of the book sale downstairs Stiles assures himself he can check it out later. Now he trots into the newspaper room, relieved to find Lydia’s in there alone. Granted it would have been funny if she’d managed to get her bird in here without the staff knowing.“Hey. What’ca doing?”

Lydia doesn’t jump in surprise. Instead she gives an aggrieved sigh and turns to look at him. “Looking for possible info on CC, since you’re not.” While she speaks she pulls her phone out and types out something before putting it away.

Stiles bristles. “You try getting something out of my dad without A sounding like a creeper or B revealing the supernatural to him.” It’s like she doesn’t even know him. The deputies might not question Stiles lurking around. They do keep him out of the areas where things like evidence and case files are kept ever since the great ketchup fiasco of ‘01.

“Or,” Lydia turns her attention back to the microfiche reader. “You could tell your dad and then you wouldn’t sound like a creeper when you asked those sorts of questions.” Before Stiles can open his mouth to refute that idea she continues. “He deserves to know.”

Again Stiles opens his mouth to tell her why that’s a bad idea. Isaac steps into the room before Stiles can even think of how to start.

“Who ordered the tea?” Stiles resists the urge to make faces at Isaac and his model chic.

“Thanks Isaac.” This time Lydia’s smiling when she turns her attention back to them. Stiles would point out that there are no drinks allowed in the library but when Isaac hands her her tea it’s in a sealed thermos. Very little chance of spillage. Like he planned it or something.

Stiles’ getting the sneaking suspicion Lydia doesn’t want to be alone with him.

He can’t confront her about it with someone else with her on the other hand. So he’ll bide his time. “Want some help?” If he can’t talk to her about whatever’s between them then he can try to make himself useful. Even if scrolling through microfiche sounds incredibly boring.

“You can get the roll for 1998,” she says absently. “Isaac, you have decent handwriting, I’ll dictate to you.”

Making a face Stiles goes, her agreeing is better than nothing.

When he returns with the roll Lydia’s finished the last one, has it spooled up and ready to be put away. Stiles sneaks a glance at the notepad next to Isaac, there are no new notes from the looks of it, but Lydia’s got a small list going already. She’s been at this longer than Stiles had thought she was.

Isaac is jotting what Lydia says when Stiles returns the second time. Sitting down Stiles pulls out his phone, more than happy to listen to Lydia talk as he dicks around on the internet. There are worse ways to pass an afternoon.

Which passes by quicker than he realizes. “Wait.” There’s an expectant tone in Lydia’s voice and Stiles looks up at her. His gaze falls on the clock on the wall as well and he realizes it’s only been a half an hour.

Instead of reading out the specifics to Isaac Lydia pulls her phone out and snaps a picture. “Found her.” The fact Lydia found out who CC is is both surprising and not. She’s Lydia Martin, of course she found out who CC is. On the other hand to do it from a _newspaper_ article? How can she sound so certain? “You can recycle the notes Isaac,” Lydia sounds a little contrite. “This is her.” Standing she rewinds the microfiche spool.

“How?” Stiles has to know, for his own sake.

Lydia gives him a flat look. “I just know Stiles.” She packs aways the spool. “Come on, we need to get to the station.” Her tone implies Stiles is coming whether he’d want to or not. The fact she’s including him of her own free will more than enough for Stiles at the moment.

-

Mori swoops down in greeting as they exit the library. Lydia giving a small smile as the faint breeze from Mori’s wings brushes her cheek. Knowledge and certainty sing through her, it bolsters her more than she thought it would.

The chilly air tastes of electricity and there’s a warning and a promise singing through that taste. For now it’s only a hint and she can set it aside. Soon enough she’ll have to face it Lydia knows. Share it with the others. Right now she needs to get things with Malia settled.

 _Malia_. Not the name she expected. Yet it fits CC.

Isaac keeps up with her pace easily, but Stiles jogs to catch up. “Why are we going to the station?” Even with the chill it’s nice to walk, the station being only a few blocks from the library.

“Because we need the case file your dad has.” Lydia’ll steal it if she has to. She hopes it won’t come to that. There are other routes she can try first. If she does end up having to steal it she guesses that can be hers and Peter’s next date. She bites back a laugh at the idea.

“You know he’s not just going to give it to you right?” Lydia has no idea why Stiles hasn’t told his dad about the supernatural. It makes no sense. It however does remind her to send off a text to Erica, perhaps her dad’s records will have more info that the police might not. She also sends off another text to Derek, in this case asking for permission is the way to go.

She bites back a sigh at Stiles’ question. “We’ll give him good reason to.” When Stiles bristles she rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to threaten him Stiles, he’s a human.” Next to her Isaac radiates amusement and she’s so glad he finds her and Stiles entertaining. “It would be poor form.”

Which eases Stiles thankfully. Granted he’s still suspicious, but she knows that’s Stiles’ default.

The deputy at the main desk doesn’t give them more than a cursory look after she spots Stiles. Half the reason Lydia made sure he tagged along. The other half is that the sheriff doesn’t look at all surprised to see them when Stiles knocks on his doorframe. In fact his expression is almost pleased, perhaps even a little expectant.

“Didn’t bring fries dad.” Stiles gives a pointed look at the salad in front of the sheriff. Who gives a small sigh. It’s nice to have Stiles focusing on someone else for a change.

“What can I do for you kids?” He waves at the chairs and couch he has set up. At a brief glance from her, the Beta’s have accepted she’s higher on the totem pole than she is when it comes to pack business, Isaac takes the couch while she and Stiles take the chairs. It doesn’t surprise her when Isaac takes out his phone, she knows if she needs him he’ll be ready.

“I’d like to request a file from you.” Lydia says before Stiles has the chance to derail the conversation. She’s not going to be deterred if she can help it. Not when it comes to _her_ family.

The sheriff frowns and leans back in his seat. “If it’s an active case file I can’t discuss it with you, let alone share it.”

“It’s a cold case.” It’s been ten years after all. “If I need to I’ll file a FOIA request.” Lydia knows the files won’t hold all the answers, but she’ll get more than she had before. More than the newspaper report. In her pocket her phone chimes. The tone telling her it’s Derek who’s responding not Erica.

Both the sheriff and Stiles wear matching flabbergasted expressions, if for different reasons.

“You’re a minor miss Martin.”

At the same time Stiles blurts out. “FOIA’s only for federal not state.”

Damn it. They’re both right.

“Why don’t you tell me what case you’re interested in before we go throwing around any more paperwork.” The sheriff gives a wan smile.

Lydia straightens, part of her wishing she’d thought to go home and change, make herself look more professional than autumn chic. “The Tate car accident.” The sheriff blinks, as if not expecting that particular case. Although Lydia has no idea _what_ case he thinks she might ask after.

The sheriff starts eating, more, Lydia thinks, because he needs to do something with his hands. Like son like father. Lydia is more than willing to wait. “And why do you want that case?

“The newspaper article said all three passengers died. It’s wrong. Malia survived. We found her about a week ago.” Not that she’d be able to explain to the sheriff _how_ she knows that, and even if she could a feeling isn’t exactly solid evidence. Except that it is when it comes to her.

“What?” The sheriff drops his fork.

Behind her she can feel Isaac tense, ready to take on a threat to the pack should the sheriff get too demanding. It makes Lydia regret having him take the couch, it would be easier to calm him if they were closer. She settles on shooting him a glance and a brief headshake. Taking on the sheriff wouldn’t end well for any of them, and anyways he’s not going to hurt her.

“Malia Tate’s alive?”

She bites back the urge to correct him. That it’s Malia Hale. Instead she nods.

“And why didn’t you bring her to the station when you found her?” Lydia should have expected that question. There’s a reasonable explanation thankfully.

“Malia’s half feral, we didn’t know who she was until I found the news article about the crash. She hasn’t spoken a word since we found her.” Lydia’s wondering if Malia ever will. She’d been eight when the car crashed, so she knew language, could still understand it. Yet she’s been a coyote for ten years, most of it during the some of the most critical years of mental development.

The sheriff eases a little, but she knows he’s not going to let this go. Which is why she has her ace if she needs it, no matter how much Stiles might hate it. It’d be nice for him to hate her for a change, they might actually make some progress towards actual friendship instead of him having her on a pedestal.

“It’s definitely weird,” Stiles chimes in. She’d half forgotten he was there.

The sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose. “You knew?” He doesn’t sound at all surprised, given what Stiles gets up to the fact the sheriff asks is what’s surprising.

Stiles sinks into his seat, shoulders hunching up. “I mean I saw her twice, Scott did too.” Lydia wonders if Stiles is trying to share the blame or not.

“Have you seen her?” The sheriff asks Isaac, who looks taken aback that he’s being brought into the conversation. He shoots a brief look at Lydia, she gives as small a shrug as she can. The sheriff’s going to find out Malia’s living with Peter and Derek soon enough.

“Yeah. After school usually, and most of yesterday. She’s...fun, even if she doesn’t talk and tends to bite a bit hard.” Good thing they all have werewolf healing. Malia thankfully understands the difference between play and actual fighting.

Which earns Isaac a curious stare. The sheriff very much wants to ask about the biting, even Lydia can tell. “How are all of you seeing her? Or maybe we should just all go there now.” He crosses his arms. “Even if she can speak she needs to be looked over by a doctor, needs to be returned to her father.” He makes it sound like she’s a stray pet they’ve found. Lydia does her best to hold back her bristling. She can’t exactly bring up the fact that she _is_ with her family, they’ve no proof that she’s adopted.

Now however that they know her name, and the name of the family that adopted her Lydia can go look at public records, probably find her birth certificate at the least. If the agency that dealt with her adoption has sealed records then she’ll bring Danny in.

Stiles is shooting her looks she thinks are meant to stop her. “That’s fine.” Lydia stands, unsurprised when Stiles jumps up too.

“You should finish eating lunch.” As far as excuses go it’s a flimsy one, even the sheriff gives him a flat stare.

“Lunch can wait.” He answers. “We’ll take a squad car.” That should be an interesting experience.

Lydia’s more than happy to let the Sheriff lead the way, Stiles more concerned with trying to stop him with more flimsy reasons than trying to chew her out. She bumps her shoulder with Isaac’s arm. “One of us should text Derek, tell him to make sure Malia’s dressed.” She doesn’t think the sheriff will take too kindly to Malia’s nudist tendencies.

Lydia does find herself a bit sad that she wasn’t able to tell the sheriff herself about the supernatural. Derek and Peter’ll be better able to explain it; and it’s not like Stiles can dislike Derek even more.

-

Stiles has been pacing up and down the hall in front of Derek’s loft for five minutes now. Isaac left, probably to let everyone else know what’s happening, but Lydia’s stayed. Browsing her phone like nothing of great importance is happening on the other side of the door.

“Did you do this on purpose?” It’s been niggling at him ever since she said she wanted to go the the station. He doesn’t know why she thought she might be able to get her hands on the case file for the crash.

Lydia doesn’t look up from her phone. “Maybe.” Even with werewolf senses Stiles is sure he wouldn’t be able to tell if she’s lying. “I really do want to look at the file if that’s what you’re wondering. This is just a bonus. Your dad deserves to know.” Stiles knows his dad does, but hate it. He’d rather his dad didn’t have to keep this secret too.

“What the hell is up with you and Peter?” Stiles will admit he would have prefered to be less blunt, but he’s not sure when he’ll get another chance to ask.

“Nothing you need to bother yourself with. It’s Hale stuff.” It’s really starting to irk him that she still hasn’t looked up from her phone. He’s the second smartest person at school, he’d like to think that warranted _some_ of her attention, moreso with a conversation like this.

“What the hell do you mean ‘Hale stuff’?” He knows she’s not a werewolf. Although how she survived Peter attacking her is beyond him. On the other hand her medical file hadn’t mentioned anything about a bite, only scratches. Stiles tries not to think about how Peter got blood on his mouth. “He _attacked_ you Lydia, and I know _something_ happened with you in those five weeks he was dead.”

She huffs. “I mean Hale stuff in that it only matters to the Hale family, they’re my business for a very long time. That includes Peter.” Her phone chimes with a text. “If you’re worried about the attack he’s more than made up for it and the five weeks he was in my head. I’ve more than forgiven him.”

Stiles’ brain is working through what she’s just told him when his dad shouts.

Without thinking Stiles pulls the door open. Shoulders aching he runs into the loft, expecting there to be glowing eyes and a gun.

Instead there’s a coyote on the couch, one who’s hackles are raised and eyes that _are_ glowing blue.

The sound of Lydia’s heels breaks the silence. “I guess all it took for her to shift back was stress. Should’ve realized it might be a good trigger.”

From the kitchen Stiles hears a very Peter-like snort.

His dad’s gun is out, but Derek’s between him and Malia, all but exuding calm. “I guess you believe me now.” Derek being calm about it isn’t as surprising as Stiles thought it would be. He might exude menace, but it’s become a more chill menace if Stiles is honest with himself.

Dad looks like he’s not sure what to do. His gaze turns to Stiles. “Did you know?”

Taking a deep breath Stiles pushes past the hurt in his dad’s voice. “Yeah. Basically since Laura’s body was found.” Almost a year now and Stiles can’t believe it. “Scott got bit that night, you know he can’t look after himself.”

A tired sound escapes dad, but he puts his gun away. The tension in the room cuts in half almost instantly. The moment his dad is gone Stiles is going to ask about that, because not knowing what Peter might have done is worse than knowing.

Dad’s eyes fall on Malia again, who’s more than happy to hide behind Derek. “Turning into…” He makes an all encompassing hand gesture. “Isn’t going to stop me from asking questions. Later.” His shoulders fall. “Right now I need to think.” He turns and starts heading towards the door, and Stiles. “Come on Stiles.” The look his dad gives brooks no argument and Stiles holds back his own sigh. He guesses him being dragged along is better than leaving dad to his own devices. This way he can make sure his dad doesn’t do something stupid.

He’s not sure he’s going to relish the ensuing talk either.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie that this is my favorite chapter in this fic.
> 
> also CW/TW for blood in the second scene.

There’s an ache in Derek’s chest as he waits on the porch of his former home. It’s a far distant one than it used to be. Where the front garden used to be Peter is teaching Malia how to break various holds. It brings something like a smile to Derek’s face.

Malia. The name is a welcome one, if unexpected. Granted he should have known Lydia would find something. Malia is a Hale after all, and the Hales are Lydia’s business. The knowledge of who CC is however brings some complications. She’d clearly been adopted and it wasn’t as if he or Peter knew who her parents might have been, or why they gave Malia up for adoption in the first place. Or why they would have given her to _humans_ —Peter had checked on Henry Tate last night, human and a drunkard. So unless his wife had been hiding something from the other man it seems that the blame lay at a Hale’s feet.

They can all hear cars approaching in the distance, the rest of the pack. All wondering what Peter has planned for them. If they’d been listening in on Friday they would know, Peter’s probably going to have a few words on that when he finds out how few heard him.

Peter breaks off from playing with Malia when Lydia’s car parks in the clearing. For once she’s dressed as sensibly as everyone else, although the messenger bag she’s carrying is suspicious. On the other hand Peter had wanted one of the non-wolves prepared for today, to give everyone a challenge to hunt.

Isaac, Erica, and Boyd exit the car too. With a smile on his face Derek goes to greet them all. He might never have planned on being an Alpha but he can’t help but admit it’s been good to him. Helped him find the sort of family he’s been missing.

Danny’s car is next, with Ethan in tow. It had surprised him when Danny had admitted to already knowing about werewolves, if not the whole breathed of supernatural there were. It had been a good surprise though, and something of a relief. That there were humans who knew about the supernatural and didn’t want them dead.

Last but not least is Stiles’ jeep. The car sounding like it's on it’s last leg, for the nth time. Even though Scott’s now part of the pack for real he’s still suspicious of Peter and Ethan. Too human still. Derek knows he’s just going to have to live with that, that Scott won’t ever be as comfortable as he should be. Maybe in a few more years.

“Now that we’re all here.” Peter’s voice draws all their attention to him. For a second he sees his uncle’s hand twitch, as if expecting Lydia to be next to him when she isn’t. He continues on. “How many of you know what’s going to happen today?”

Lydia raises her hand, as does Derek, and Malia. Ethan is a nice surprise, and Boyd Derek expected. None of the other do, but the humans can be forgiven on that front. Peter gives the expected sigh. “Good thing part of today’s exercise is hearing, since it’s something we obviously need to work on.”

Peter steps up onto the porch. “Today we’re going to be playing hide and seek.” A murmur of surprise from the ones who didn’t know. “Lydia, Stiles, Danny, and Allison.” Derek catches the faint hitch and wonders if anyone else does. “Will be the hiders.” He pulls out bundles of brightly colored sticks from the bag he’d put on the porch when they’d gotten there. Lydia gets the blue ones, Stiles the red, Danny green and Allison white. “It’s your job to hide as best you can and make sure none of the seekers get your sticks. If you’re found you give the ones who found you a stick then move on to another hiding place. The field of play ends a mile out, there are florescent pink markers if you’re unsure if you’ve gone out too far. The first round will last an hour, you all get a five minute head start, starting now.”

Lydia leaves immediately, shoving her bundle of sticks into her bag. Danny goes a different direction than she does. Allison and Stiles give each other confused looks, before they do head out.

“We’ll be hunting in teams of two. Ethan and I’ll be a team, Isaac and Malia, Boyd and Scott, and Derek and Erica.” Derek rolls his eyes at the cheeky smile Erica flashes him. He bumps their shoulders when she comes up to him. “Once you’ve found someone you cannot follow them, you have to get sticks from the other three before you can attempt to track a person a second time. The team with the most sticks at the end of the round is the winner.”

Derek doesn’t bother to curtail the Beta’s betting against each other, Peter radiates pleasure at the fact even. Always good to have some friendly competition.

The time Peter set seems to take forever to end, but when it does the four teams race towards the woods. Derek only a little hampered by Erica.

While both he and Erica have agreed she’s not second in command material it’s good to work with her. His senses might be better than her’s because he’s the Alpha, but she’s better at spotting little things. Which is what leads them to Danny.

Half an hour later they find Allison up in a tree.

All that’s left is Stiles and Lydia, with about twenty minutes to go.

They do find them, both of them. Not in the way Derek would prefer however.

“...didn’t tell you? I’ll tell you why.” This close to Lydia Derek can feel her anger.  “Because you would have told Scott, who would have told Allison. And you know what the three of you would have done? You would have tried to ‘save’ me...again.”

“Get Peter.” Derek tells Erica. “Stay with Ethan.” She doesn’t say anything before running off.

Derek has to fight against Lydia’s anger, to keep himself apart from it. He’s the _Alpha_ , if he chooses a side that’s bad for everyone. He cares about Lydia, but Stiles is a part of the pack too, however light that bond is. Which is why he’s glad Peter’s there to pick up the emotional slack, that his uncle _wants_ to do that. Wants to be beholden to something deeper.

“That’s not it at all Lydia.” Stiles is angry too, if of a different sort. That one Derek smells, Lydia’s own scent isn’t there, it would be more unnerving if he didn’t already know she’d been preparing. “I’m worried about you. I have been for a while.”

Derek creeps closer, close enough to see them. If it gets physical he’ll intervene, but they’re allowed to work out their own problems. He digs his claws into the wood of the tree he’s behind to remind himself.

Lydia crosses her arms. “I don’t _need_ your worry. You need to actually believe me when I say I’m fine. Don’t assume you know me better than I know myself. This doesn’t need to be a repeat of what happened in March. I _know_ about the supernatural now. About werewolves, ghosts, Darach, druids, you name it. I’m not some young woman blindly fumbling for answers Stiles.”

“Lydia.” Stiles takes a step closer to her. She stiffens but doesn’t give ground. “What happened to you?”

She bares her teeth and Derek can feel resolve fill her anger. In the distance he can hear running. Good. “If you’re so desperate to look after me what are you going to do? Are you still going to try and protect me when I tell you I killed Jennifer? That _I’m_ the one who stopped the Darach?” Derek knows she’s only sort of lying, that Peter’s the one who dealt the killing blow. That’s not the point he also knows.

Shock rips through Stiles’ scent. For a second there’s an echoing in Derek, not of shock, but something else he can’t quite pin down.

Even Lydia notices Stiles’ shock, considering it’s emphasised with silence it’s hard not to notice. All she does is press on, tearing down every last inch of her pillar. “That night you were all trapped at the motel I went to the Nemeton, burned down and then salted the ground. She came at me while the Nemeton was burning and she died never knowing what she was really up against. I regret lending Erica my plaid Fendis than I do killing her.” Lydia gives her chin a haughty tilt.

In the tree above them Mori croaks and flies down, settling herself on Lydia’s shoulder.

The picture’s completed a moment later when Peter steps into the clearing, eyes flaring blue as he takes in the situation. “Lydia,” he says quietly.

Without another word she goes to him, lets him usher her away. Derek steps in before Stiles can think to follow. “Leave them.” He instead guides Stiles the opposite way, back towards the Hale house, the time’s basically up anyways.

“Did she…” Stiles’ hands are trembling, Derek wonders if he’s about to have a panic attack. “Did she really do that?”

Derek stops them, grabs Stiles’ face between his hands. “Close your eyes.” The frown that wants to cross Stiles’ face gets consumed by his general shock and confusion. Stiles does close his eyes however. “Take a deep breath.” He’s more than willing to answer Stiles’ questions, but he doesn’t need him to get even more freaked out.

He doesn’t do anything more than keep telling Stiles to inhale and exhale until Stiles’ heart rate returns to its usual level and he’s not shaking so much. Taking his hands off Stiles’ face he starts leading them back towards the house again. “Yes. Lydia killed the Darach.” Although when Lydia and Peter had been telling him what happen she’d admitted the Darach was a bonus. Derek’s certain that without the Nemeton to draw from Jennifer wouldn’t have lasted much longer in Beacon Hills anyways.

Stiles’ inhale is shaky, but he nods. “Why did she just...go off with Peter? She’s been...not answering when I ask.”

It’s perhaps not fair of Stiles to ask Derek that question, considering Lydia’s not interested in answering it herself. Derek is also willing to take the brunt of Lydia’s anger for answering it. “They’re dating, have been for a few weeks now.”

Once again Stiles is stunned into silence, and Derek isn’t sure if he should enjoy being able to do it or not.

-

Instead of driving her to her house Peter drives them to Derek’s building. Her house might be more comforting for her, but at the building Peter won’t have to split his attention.

When they get there Peter scoops Lydia up. She nestles closer, giving him a noseful of the Preserve smell she’s covered herself with. At a later time perhaps he’ll find that more interesting, ask how she made it and how one might try to detect it. Right now it irks him. He needs to smell _her_ to know she’s alright.

The elevator ride feels like it takes forever, neither of them saying a word yet. Peter is happy to wait. The doors open up on the eleventh floor instead of the loft and Peter exits. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out his keys and unlocks the door on the far left, Lydia’s apartment.

She doesn’t live there, yet. But Derek’s set it aside for her, just like he’s set one aside for all the rest of the pack. Isaac, himself, and Ethan are the only ones who live permanently on the floor.

Putting Lydia down he nudges her towards the bathroom. He knows a shower will help calm her down, but it’s selfish as well. While she does that he wanders into the kitchen she’s already filled, starting up a pot of tea for her. Opening a window he lets Mori in. She gives a chirrup and plucks a bit of liver from his hand when he offers it to her.

After the tea finishes brewing he debates for a moment over whether to add some Irish cream or not. He decides not. Instead he feels his teeth shift in his mouth as he brings his palm up. He sinks his teeth into the meat of his palm, worrying the bite a little so it will bleed longer. Turning his palm upside down he lets his blood drip into the tea.

Banshee are not vampires to need blood everyday. Peter’s read Lydia’s translation on the other hand. Knows that family blood will help anchor her after such an emotional outburst. It’s the least he can do.

He’s waiting for her in the front room—equally filled with Lydia’s style—when she exits her bedroom. Satisfaction fills him seeing her wear one of his button ups and ratty yoga pants. He pours a cup as she walks to him and he holds it out to her. Mori joins them, settling herself on the coffee table and goes about grooming herself.

Lydia accepts and settles into his lap, his arms wrapping around her to help keep her steady. Lydia rests her head against his shoulder, blowing on her tea to cool it faster.

While he waits for her to drink and speak Peter begins running his fingers through her damp hair, absently braiding it. Before the fire it had been something he’d learned partly out of necessity, easy to bribe his female relatives—regardless of age—into helping with little things if he could help with their hair. He’s only recently picked it up again thanks to CC...Malia.

How could his sister be so wise in some ways and so short-sighted in others? Giving a were to a place unknowing of her origins and them letting her be adopted by _humans_. Two people were dead because of that mistake. Had Talia thought Malia might be human? It’s not a preposterous thought, but it is one Peter finds himself rejecting outright. An easy enough thing to test, even on a baby. Talia had to have known. So why?

A surprised sound from Lydia draws him out of his thoughts. He finds himself smiling at the expression on her face. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Good.” Vicious satisfaction fills his voice. He _wants_ to spoil her. Wants her to come to expect it, grow used to it, so that the absence of what he gives is more noticeable than the giving itself.

“The worst part is Scott and Allison are going to look at me with _pity_ in their eyes.” Her knuckles grow white against the cup. “I don’t _want_ them to pity me, I did what I wanted to do.”

Peter ducks down and lays a kiss on her temple. “I know.” The kiss turns into a nuzzle, like a parched man he drinks in dirt and myrrh. “If you’d like I could just kill them.”

It gets the expected huff of laughter out of Lydia. The smile and joy coming from her relieves him.

Her whole expression grows serious however as she pours herself another cup. “No. Derek would be angry. Anyways…” Her eyes stare at her cup intently, Peter can wait for whatever it is she’s struggling to share. “Stiles is going to die sometime this year.”

Even with all the things she could have said, that isn’t what he expects. “I thought you could only predict the death of us Hales Lydia.” It’s not a chastisement, only curiosity.

“There’s…” She takes a deep breath. “There’s wiggle room. If we don’t do anything Stiles will die, yes. But if we do prevent Stiles’ death...he’ll join the family. So it sort of counts. I should have realized it earlier, but I’ve been avoiding him. When I threw what I did in his face he opened up too much, let me see.”

“Which Hale?” It’s perhaps not the question he should be asking, but he’s curious.

Another huff from Lydia. “Not you if you’re worried.”

Now he’s the one laughing. “Why would I want him when I have you?” His only interest in Stiles when he’d been an Alpha was the fact the young man _was_ so clever and smart. He would make a far better fit for a Beta than Scott—but Peter is sure Stiles would have resisted more too. “Is it Malia?” Anger creeps into Peter’s voice. If it is her he might just let Stiles die. Malia hasn’t been human since she was eight, relationships will not be in her cards for a good long while.

“Babd no!” Lydia’s hair hits him in the face as she shakes her head. Which only leaves Derek and the two mystery Hales. “I don’t know who, but I know it’s a man. Which leaves two options. Other than that, relationships aren’t my purview, I can only see him joining the line by marriage, nothing beyond that.”

Good to know either way. Perhaps Peter should add match-making to his list of skills. Derek could use some more happiness in his life, and having an Alpha pair would make the pack more stable than it already was.

“So how will he die then?”

“Did you know if anyone knew about the Nemeton other than the Hales?” Peter knows this isn’t such a non-sequitur as most would think.

He racks his memories while Lydia drinks. Even trying to dredge up shards from the hazier patches in his life. “Some hunters found it, but I don’t think they ever found it again, or realized that we used it as a hiding spot. Other than that...I don’t know. If someone had they might have kept it to themselves instead of telling us they knew about it. Talia was protective of the tree, especially after it got cut down.”

“I think…Stiles was somehow bound to the Nemeton. When I destroyed it...it hurt him. If he knew what had happened maybe he’d be able to fix it, but he doesn’t so he’s...full of cracks. Too easy for something to come along and just...fill him up.”

Revulsion at the idea, and anger at the thought of someone attacking _his_ pack fills Peter. “Do you know how to fix it?”

Lydia shakes her head. “I’ll need to do a deep dive.”

Peter starts rubbing his hand up and down her back, knowing he won’t be able to be there for her while she does it. The first time they’d had other things to think about after he’d pulled her up. Being in the same apartment, let alone the same building while she takes care of her urges is a temptation to avoid. He knows if he’s here she’ll say yes to sex, but that it’s not true consent after being in death for so long.

Peter might want her, but he wants _her_. After they’ve had sex and talked about it he’s sure there will be other times where he’ll gladly take advantage. Eager to learn what Lydia newly full of life might let him do to her.

“Do you need anything?” He kisses the top of her head.

Finishing off her tea Lydia sets her cup down and turns to give him a full kiss. “No.” She answers when they break apart. “I’ve got everything I need here.” Another kiss. “I’ll call you though.”

They both stand, and with one final kiss he leaves her.

After getting in his car he finds himself driving aimlessly. He could likely head back to the Hale house and find everyone still there, but he doesn’t want to deal with the pack at the moment.

He instead finds his way to the Vault. Easy enough to channel all his pent up energy on something productive. With no more Talia adding to the load he’s nearly three-quarters of the way done with cataloging. It’s a different sort of satisfaction he takes in that.

By the time his phone goes off he’s completely lost track of time. For a second all he can do is blink as his phone tells him nearly two hours have passed since he got there. All the while his phone is still ringing, and he almost lets it go to voicemail. It’s only at the last minute that he answers.

“Hello Lydia.”

“I know what we need to do.”


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles awakes with a groan, hand fumbling around for his phone and the siren alarm it’s blaring at him. His hand gets lucky and the sound cuts out. With a groan he sits up, his head feels fuzzy. All stuffed with cotton.

Another groan gets him out of bed. He does his business in the bathroom, remembering to take his Adderall. Dressing he stumbles down the stairs, intent on breakfast and coffee—in either order.

Instead what he gets when he reaches the kitchen and a noseful of pine scent. Courtesy of the small pine tree in a pot sitting on the counter. Stiles blinks at it for a moment before turning his gaze towards his dad, leaning against the counter and drinking his own cup of coffee. “You know it’s gonna die in like a week, neither of us are green thumbs.”

Dad gives him a flat look over the rim of his mug. “It’s for you.” He grabs an envelope sitting next to the pot and hands it over. “Found it on the porch this morning next to the paper.”

Taking the envelope Stiles stares at it for a moment. _Mieczysław_ , in all too familiar handwriting.

He all but tears open the envelope, the card inside the same plain cream paper. Written in Polish. A language Stiles hasn’t spoken since his mom died. So his read through is rusty at best, at least knowing who it’s from means he can demand an explanation. Even with a disjointed a translation he makes he’ll still need an explanation, because it makes no sense.

Shoving the card into his hoodie pocket he gets himself breakfast. “What’s on your docket today daddy-o?”

Another look from dad, Stiles doesn’t know why he bothers. Stiles is far to used to them for them to be effective. “New deputy interview.” Which perks Stiles’ attention, Matt’s killing spree might have been months ago, but he knows the department still hasn’t made up the numbers yet.

“What’s the prognosis?” He catches the toast as it pops into the air, dropping it on his plate and slathering it in peanut butter.

Dad sighs. “Probably hire him. He’s got military and bomb experience, which we could always use. Especially if...are there any...beings who can explode?”

Stiles frowns with toast in his mouth as he thinks that through. It’s a relief his dad’s accepting it, but he fears in the long run it’ll only cause his dad headaches and stress. Easier to cover up what you don’t know about. “Unless cards games start becoming sentient you’re in the clear.”

Dad looks like he wants to ask about that, but Stiles chugs a mug of coffee. “Gotta go! Don’t want to be late for school.” He’s out the door before dad even has the chance to say goodbye.

His fingers tap restlessly against the steering wheel while he drives. Stiles is a little relieved he doesn’t have to pick up Scott anymore, it means he’ll have time to actually ask the questions he needs to ask. If the pine tree is an apology it’s the weirdest one he’s ever come across. Granted the whole pack is weird.

Making it to school in record time he leaps out of Rosco and starts looking around.

Like he’d hoped the whole pack—sans Allison and Scott—are lounging outside, enjoying the early October morning. They don’t tense when he approaches, but he does notice the conversation begins to peter off. Practically in the middle is Lydia, not quite holding court like she used to, but it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she’s important.

Grabbing the card out of his pocket he tosses it at her. “I didn’t know you knew Polish.” If he had he might’ve kept up his own fluency, could’ve been fun to chat at each other. It might not have been the sexiest language ever, but it did decent enough when one tried.

Lydia picks up the card as he takes a seat across from her. “I haven’t started on Slavic languages yet.” The idea of her having a language learning plan doesn’t surprise him at all. “To answer your next question, yes I did write it.”

Before he has the chance to speak again Erica speaks up. “You want us here or should we give you some privacy?”

Despite what happened yesterday, and his brain gets caught up in it again. _I killed Jennifer_ , _I don’t_ need _your worry._ Stiles’ always knew Lydia had a dark side, but he’d never thought she’d ever stoop to murder. Even if the person in question was even more evil. It just didn’t feel like the Lydia he knew.

On the other hand he’s fast beginning to learn that perhaps he doesn’t know Lydia at all. _Dating for a few_ weeks.

“Stiles?” Lydia’s voice breaks his musings and he blinks, realizing that everyone else has left. A brief scan shows them hanging out by the school sign. Really only the illusion of privacy, they could likely hear every word. Nice anyways.

He shoves aside all his conflicted feeling and focuses on the now. “Why?”

She picks up the card and turns it a few times in her hands before handing it back. “If I were human I’d call it an apology.” He opens his mouth, but she gives him a cutting glance and he closes it. “I’m _not_ human Stiles, I never was. Peter’s attack didn’t change that, only made me aware of it. It’s not an apology, but...wergild.”

With something like a sigh she pulls out one of her notebooks and starts doodling. Which is about when Stiles realizes that bird of hers has joined them, beak grabbing and releasing the metal spiral that bound the notebook together. “When I destroyed the Nemeton.” Stiles is going to do all the research on that. “I thought I’d accounted for all the backlash, I was wrong. You might not realize it, but you were hurt then, and the tree and the note is my attempt to fix it. Or what I was told would help _you_ fix it.”

“I don’t understand it. How’s it supposed to help me? Who told you?” It could have been Peter, but Stiles found himself doubting it. The feel of this didn’t seem like one of Peter’s plots.

“Finding out stuff like this is sort of what I do, so long as it pertains to the Hales.” Stiles isn’t sure how to take that. “The only other thing I know is that it had to do with what your mother was. If I had been able to find out what exactly I would tell you.” She doesn’t sound happy about that. It makes sense, Lydia prides herself on knowing things and there’s something she doesn’t know. Stiles finds it annoys him too.

“If you want.” Lydia continues. “After school today Danny and Boyd are going to the Vault. There’s plenty there for you to dig through. Most of it’s even organized at this point.”

“Yeah, sure.” Stiles knows he sounds absent, most of his mind fixated on her mention of his mom. What his mother _was_? She’d been human, hadn’t she? Supernatural didn’t get rare brain diseases. Didn’t they? His brain pointed out that the bite hadn’t cured Gerard of his cancer, probably wouldn’t have even if Scott hadn’t been dosing him with mountain ash.

He hears Lydia get up, but doesn’t move himself until he hears Scott’s voice. “Stiles? You alright?” A too warm hand grasps his shoulder. “Dude the bell’s about to ring.”

Stiles gives a start. School, right. He finds his body hauls itself upright and shambles after Scott. His mind still caught between confusion and anger. _What were you hiding mom?_

-

Classes pass in something of a blur. Not that Stiles minds, he can bum notes from Scott or Allison if he needs to. He’s also sure he hasn’t missed all that much really. All throughout lunch he doesn’t say a word, which earns him some worried glances. He’s going through every memory of his mom with a fine toothed comb, talking kind of falls to the wayside.

His phone buzzes in his pocket five minutes before the bell rings. Stiles has become skilled in sneaky phone checks and manages no problem. It’s from Danny of all people, telling him to meet them in the basement by the teacher supply room. Right the Vault. He doesn’t bother to text back a response.

The moment the bell rings his out the door like a shot, weaving his way through the crowd and doing his best to sneak into the basement—he thinks a few of the theater kids catch him, but they don’t say anything.

Easy enough to find Danny and Boyd. Even with Stiles’ preoccupation he does manage to find himself fascinated by how Boyd opens the Vault. When Stiles steps into it he’s caught up in a nerdgasm. Holy shit this place is...wow.

He probably stands there for a moment looking like an idiot before he realizes he can _touch_ everything. That these things hold info on who knows what. Turning to the nearest shelf he pulls out a book. _On the differences of wolfsbane given climate and location._ Who the hell writes that way anymore?

Before Stiles can just dive in headfirst he manages to pull back. He’s here for a reason and not just to do the biggest reasearch binge of his life. Putting the book away he looks around. Boyd’s set up in an actual seating area, paging through a book. Danny he finds in a study carrell, typing on a laptop. Prince playing on his phone. “You get service down here?’ Stiles thought the thick walls alone would have prevented that.

“Yeah.” Danny doesn’t look away from his screen. “Peter set up one of those wifi hotspots.” Why does that not surprise Stiles.

“Is there a catalog or something? I mean as awesome as it would be to wander around aimlessly I’d be nice to find what I’m looking for.” Stiles puts his bag down as he talks, he doesn't think he’ll be leaving for a while.

Which does get Danny to stop typing. “Yes?” He leans back in his seat. “That’s what I’m working on, I haven’t ported over the whole list of books, but maybe what you’re looking for’s in it. Might as well give the UI a run through too.”

“Better than what I had you look up the last time.” A thing Stiles never thought he’d joke about.

“Yeah,” Danny snorts. “Much prefer this.”

Stiles finds himself arching an eyebrow. “I don’t know, last time had a half naked Derek.” A sight Stiles isn’t going to forget any time soon. Not that he’ll admit it to anyone, nice that there’s no psychics or anything.

“I’m pretty sure you mean Miguel,” Danny’s tone is arch. “And I’ll give you that. Although that seems to be a frequent state for Derek.”

He starts to open his mouth, because Stiles _needs_ to know more. Boyd speaks before Stiles gets the chance. “If you two don’t stop talking about half-naked Derek I’m going to tell Erica.” Threat enough in Stiles’ mind. Erica wouldn’t let it go at all, probably start sending him all sorts of ridiculous shit.

“Sorry.” Not that Stiles is really sorry, he winces when he realizes Boyd’d be able to tell that. He’s just getting side-tracked left and right. “Wanna look up Nemetons.” Figuring out what Lydia destroyed and why seems like a good start.

“Just that?” Danny opens up another screen, this one looking a lot like Stiles expects library search engines to look like.

Stiles scrunches his face up as he thinks. “People with plant powers? Uh. People with plant connections?” If he’d been connected with the Nemeton somehow then those also seem like they might be good to look into.

The search takes longer than Stiles would have liked, Danny pausing every few minutes to make notes for code corrections. At one point Danny’s force to start all over again, earning the computer more than a few expletives.

Stiles does get a list in the end, with helpful shelf directions. He leaves Danny to his coding and goes book hunting.

He almost lets himself get distracted by specimens in jars—he’s pretty sure he saw a preserved fairy in a jar, how could he _not_ check that out?—but finds his books in the end. The last book he grabs is _Nemeta_. As he stares at the old leather with the green tree embossed on it he finds himself overcome by a memory.

_“Mom! Dinner’s ready!” His mom looks up from her yard work, floppy hat almost hiding her face from him. He watches her stand and strip off her gloves, leaving them by her tools as she approaches him. Something about her feels off and he finds himself frowning._

_“Something the matter my little mischief? Feel like you’re going to burn holes in my clothes.” She reaches out and ruffles his hair._

_He ducks his head, but otherwise doesn’t fight the touch. “Are you alright mama?” She_ looks _fine, but something about her tugs at the edges of his mind._

 _She crouches down so that they’re eye to eye. “I’m perfectly alright_ luby _. Even if I wasn’t that’s alright too.” The hug she pulls him into feels almost too tight. “Because no matter what happens to me you’ll be safe. You won’t ever be found if I have anything to say about it.”_

_Mama’s let go of him and upright before he can even blink. “Let’s head inside before your father comes decides to eat everything himself, hmm?”_

_Stiles giggles_.

With a shake of his head Stiles looks at the book. The next day his mom had ended up in the hospital. Except that...that wasn’t right at all, that wasn’t how it’d gone. He’d told her dinner was ready and she’d teased him that she’d taken so long to reach Stiles that his dad must have eaten everything already.

He’d never asked her if something was wrong, and she’d never told him he’d never be found.

Found by what? By who?

Another shake of his head and Stiles puts _Nemeta_ on top of his pile. Time for him to join Boyd in that reading nook and dive into what he’s got.

-

The only way Stiles marked time was by books read and music listened to—Danny’s playlist had moved on from Prince to Robert Plant.

 _Nemeta_ had been interesting, but perhaps not as useful as Stiles had hoped. There had been a lot on what one could _do_ with a Nemeton, and their history. Not much on what sort of beings might be attached to it, besides Druids. Stiles found himself having a hard time believing his mother might have been a secret Druid. Not that she couldn’t have been, only that it didn’t feel right in the context of everything that he’d learned today.

“Hey.” Boyd’s voice pulled him out of _On Homo Flora_ and it’s section on the various types of Dryads. “It’s six, was gonna go grab some pizzas and head over to Isaac’s for some Call of Duty. Want to come?”

The offer catches Stiles off guard, in a way he likes however. It’s not that far-fetched, they are pack now. Hanging out is a good thing. “Sure. Uh, can we take books out of here?” For all Stiles knows he’s gotta sign his name in blood or something to do it, but it’d be nice to go over these in his own time instead of having to come back here.

Boyd snorts. “Yeah. Just have to make sure you take care of them.”

With care Stiles marks his place in _Flora_ and puts it and the other two books he has yet to page through in his bag. Looking around he realizes Danny’s already left. Huh, Stiles would have thought he’d noticed the music stopping. Slinging his bag on Stiles follows Boyd out, then leads the way to Rosco.

The two of them don’t chat much on the way to Derek’s building, a fact Stiles can still not really believe even though he’s been there a few times now, but Stiles finds he doesn’t mind. Boyd isn’t the chattiest person in the first place, and it might take a while before they’re actual friends.

Stiles can live with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not resist the reference, not sorry not sorry.


	7. Epilogue

_She was in a cave. Blanket wrapped tight around her and fire casting merry shadows over the curved walls. Despite the large mouth the cave was warm. Helped along by the man sitting across from her, eyes as fiery as what lay between them._

_Outside the mouth a storm raged. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. Rain fell so furiously that the world beyond it was invisible._

_But here, inside the cave, she was safe. Would always_ be _safe. The fiery-eyed man would do anything for her, would look after her in any way she wished._

_Together they would weather the storm._

_A cold and lonely seed settled in her heart. For all this apparent peace something was missing. Something she didn’t think she could be without. It grew in her, more and more until that coldness spilled out of her mouth. The fire grew dimmer and dimmer. The fiery-eyed man leapt across the dying embers and encircled her in his arms. His heat warred with the cold, beating it back for a short time._

_Yet she found herself throwing back the blanket around her, and with it him._

_Without a second thought she ran into the storm. Her mournful wail overcoming even the thunder above her._

-

_With silent feet he stalked through the dim woods. He knew above was day, but the trees in this wood grew so thick as to make it an eternal twilight. All the better to stalk and hunt._

_The snap of a twig made him pause. Eyes scanning the area around him. Another soft snap and he turned towards the sound. Breathing out slowly he began to move, every step thought out far in advance. He had time enough._

_He came upon a Stag. As majestic a creature he’d ever hunted. Dun fur looking thick even from here, a rack so tangled he could not even count the points. A true prince of the forest._

_Another deep breath and he stepped into a tree, bark and wood rough against his skin as he drew an arrow from his quiver. Bringing his bow up he nocked his arrow and aimed. He did not fire right away, patient enough to wait for the perfect moment. For the stag to tell him it was ready to die._

_It cropped at the grass, unaware of his presence. He could taste a breeze beginning to stir and moved a hair deeper, trusting that the tree would hide even his scent. The stag raised his head and looked around as the air ruffled thick fur, only to return to its meal as the wind died. Soon, soon._

_Standing he brought the bow to full draw, his breath and heart calm as he waited._

_Again the stag raised his head, this time looking directly at him. Yet it did not run. One more exhale and he fired._

_The arrow burrowed into the stag’s chest and pierced the heart. A perfect kill._

_Leaving the tree he went to it, picking up the massive beast easily and slinging it across his shoulders to take back to his cabin. His mind already working through all that he could make with his new kill. After he worked out what to preserve and what to keep fresh, what to make with the hide after it had been tanned, what organs he might use in bait for richer furs, his mind whet to work on the antlers._

_Large enough that he could prune some to use as new handles for knives and still have a host left over for a crown._

_It was time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when I'll have part three out, but I *am* almost done with it.


End file.
